


Roy's Diary

by WahlBuilder



Series: ...for I am faint with love [3]
Category: Mars: War Logs
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Gen, Homecoming, Memories, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy travels to Innocence to give him back his diary and ask questions. He keeps his own journal during the journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this work to [augmented-mind](http://augmented-mind.tumblr.com/). You're an evil mastermind and at the same time your spark is of pure light that brightens life. I'm so happy to know you. Thanks for everything.  
> I also dedicate this to the developers of Mars, Spiders Studio. You're amazing, guys, and I wish this game had all the love it deserves. I will never stop spreading the word about it. You did great work. Thank you.
> 
> I had so much joy playing the game.  
> I had so much joy writing this.

I’ve been keeping this diary for a few weeks. It’s a habit I picked from a young man who sees more clearly than people think.

Innocence. I ran out of paper in his journal just when everything with the Source and the General and the Resistance had ended. This part of the story is over, but I’ve got a new notebook to write down my thoughts.

I’m travelling through the vastness of Mars and I have plenty of time to think about things.

I’m on my way to the kid. Not sure if he can forgive me. I betrayed his beliefs, separated him from people he had chosen. I respected his choice and didn’t say anything at the time but when his life got at stake… The two powers used this to pull me in, when I didn’t care for either. I just wanted the kid safe.

I’ve got a word of his whereabouts. He will be my judge.


	2. Chapter 2

These days are so peaceful I can hardly believe it. I’m just moving from place to place, hopping from one train to another, saying little, remembering much.

All this moving brings me back to the days when I’d just got out of the Source.

I haven’t told the kid why I escaped from the Source, though he had asked plenty of times. I thought eventually he would shatter my shields but it never happened, not when I had lost him in that damned attack on the train. Crazy terrorists, they’d almost killed my kid! I clench my teeth even know, remembering all this.

He wrote in his diary that I had escaped from the Source because I couldn’t stand the “gilded cage” of the Technomancers. He wrote that I wanted to be a free man.

But it’s only a part of the truth.

I didn’t tell him why I had stood up for him at the camp.

His then-hollow eyes, devoid of any color, are vivid in my memory. It’s only after that, when we managed to escape together, I noticed that his eyes are so blue it’s almost unbelievable. Seeing them makes he homesick for some reason, a distant longing in my chest, like dreams of the Earth or fresh, crystal-clear water. I was not prepared for the warm feeling I’d got when I saw light returning into his eyes.

I didn’t tell him my reasons.

I didn’t tell him that the sight of him, standing there, surrounded by those sick animals who were all glossy-eyed, making comments, reminded me of different times and of different places…

…I don’t think I’m ready to remember that.

Not yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Don’t have dreams very often but this one made me wake up in cold sweat. I needed time to stop breathing hard as if I was running from a mole, time to remember that I’m on a train, going to the kid.

Stripes of light are brushing my face. The thought of the kid finally reminds me of where I am.

I shut down those memories long ago. I thought I have forgotten about… this, but, just like with the glove I’m wearing, these things tend to haunt me and come back to me.

When I saw him in the sand shower, I remembered myself. I knew these looks, I knew these sultry voices, I knew the feeling you get from this kind of looks. Like you’re being touched with greasy hands, like insects crawl on and under your skin.

In the Source they were making walking machines from us, bound by rules and authorities, not even questioning those bounds. They were twisting us, breaking us, watching as we were falling apart only for them to reconstruct us to their liking, to make us their tools.

We were watched anywhere, everywhere we went, every step measured, every breath calculated.

I was watched. And not only with calculations behind the observation.

I was called good-looking, handsome, even pretty. “Pretty boy”.

Sweaty palms, hushed whispers, “It’s okay, nobody will know”, “Why are you fighting?”, “You’re here forever, anyway”!

I’m…

I’d thoughts of clawing my own eyes out, they’d never draw anybody’s attention this way.

I had… other thoughts. Many thoughts.

I’m reading the kid’s journal again. It brings me peace.


	4. Chapter 4

I remember back in the days, when I barely managed to flee from the Source, I was drunk on freedom, I was desperate to try everything, to touch, to taste everything, everything. I recollect a fight, two guys looming over me, with sly grins on their faces. I panicked, it was like shadows from the Source, like they had finally found me.

My skin prickled with electricity, the memory of an oath to never put on the gloves again, to never use Technomancy long forgotten.

My vision blurred, Technomancy bursting inside out, my curse ready to wipe out the shadows, but then a muffled thud came from behind those shadows, and there were groans of pain. And a hand on my shoulder.

I don’t remember going anywhere but in my memory the next moment I was in some room, shadows cast over everything, and I nearly screamed, but then a light flickered to life and I saw a face of my rescuer.

And what those shadows wanted to force out of me, I… gave freely to this man.

I remember hands on my shoulders, stopping me. I grunted, not quite able to understand why the man was denying me.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” said a voice with a strange accent, hands firm, holding me.

“But I want. I want…”

I shrugged off those hands and… leaned into the man. Who tasted of dust and alcohol and wandering.

It was… a good taste. A taste of freedom.

In the morning a familiar sound woke me up, and I saw a violent creature near me, a dog, big one, making those dog noises. I threw my hand in the direction of the creature, ready to blow it to pieces, when a palm touched the dog’s head.

“Easy, you.”

I recognized the man. I still had his taste on my lips.

I didn’t know if what he had said was directed towards the dog or me.

My head had cleared of the haziness of the night, memories flooding me. I distracted myself with studying the man, while trying to look casually. While being naked.

He wasn’t wearing much either, just leather pants, presenting himself to my eyes. I noticed many stories that his looks were telling me, his small scars and a long one just under his ribcage. His piercing light-blue eyes. A smirk on his lips.

The man was laughing at me.

“Name’s Roy,” I croaked and coughed to hide conflicting feelings that were clearly written all over my face.

He grinned, sprawling in the armchair, and said, “I’m Tenacity.”


	5. Chapter 5

I had a few unpleasant moments when this train was stopped by the army guys and they started to check papers. Then I remembered that I actually have them and nobody’s hunting me down anymore. Though I can’t vouch for the Source.

It reminded me of those few times when I’d met Tenacity, at the most random places. He was tracking somebody down or drinking himself to oblivion in the middle of nowhere. He always had a few stories for me, a witty joke, booze to share.

I think I can call him my friend.

We had times when I helped him with his tasks. There were times when I saved his ass.

I never asked about his past, just like he never asked about mine. He was a dangerous man, he still is, somewhere, wandering again.

He’s smarter than he pretends to be. He saw something in me the first time, and he saw something when we met in Shadowlair, the kid beside me, a look of understanding in Tenacity’s eyes. It was unbearable. He sees too much.

I think… I was afraid not of him stabbing me in the back but of him saying something that would bring everything in me out in the open. I was not ready.

I don’t think I’m ready even now.


	6. Chapter 6

I should stop flipping through the kid’s journal, I’ll wear it out.

It’s still amazes me that I’m the hero of this story. But also the kid himself amazes me, his attention to details, his insightful words. His drawings.

I’m not so good at drawing as the kid is but I wanted to add as many details in his journal as possible. I sketched plants growing on Green Hope's fields, hoping that my sketches could convey the feeling of new life and hope that those fields and plants had evoked in me.

I sketched buildings and vistas but my fight with the worm was hard to draw and I asked Tenacity about some details because he, too, had been there and saw the fight from above. It turned out that he had some skills and once I told him about the kid's journal and how I wanted to keep it, he drew the worm for me and even my own figure in front of its massive form.

It was sad to put this creature to rest but it was better than struggling in chains, being used as a tool. Especially by Technomancers.

Fighting with that Technomancer prick at the Shadow Line and with Sean back in the camp made me thinking the same thoughts.

I could have been like them. I could have become just like them.

I wonder, though, why Sean had been sent to the camp. Not that it was a right place to that uptight bastard, in Abundance Technomancers are held high in ranks and on a tight leash. How did he end up in that sand pit? I’m not going to know, anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

I heard the kid has a house know, that he has settled down.

I wonder if the war still haunts him. I think it does, it’s not the thing that easily goes away.

When they snatched him in middle of the train attack, I blamed myself for not making him tough enough. I didn’t get him ready for anything.

But at the same time I’m glad that he didn’t become… me. That he still had this fire in his eyes, burning, lighting up the world around him. Bringing colors into red and rust stories of Mars. I’m glad that something of a kid has stayed with him.

I wonder… I wonder if someone else was also drawn to this light. If he has someone near him there, where he lives now.

I wonder if I would be a ghost of the past, an uninvited guest, a shadow with claws.

I wish someone would care for him, someone good, a lovely girl maybe that will laugh and cheer him up and hold him when the past comes haunting him again.

Back in Shadowlair and Green Hope Mary tried to… become closer to me. Devotion, too. They are incredible women, strong and loyal. Devotion still amazes me with her patience and, well, devotion to her cause. Poor girl. And I arranged for Mary to stay free. I think she can manage on her own.

Aside from polite asks and compliments and good, light-hearted flirting I didn’t want to go anywhere with either of them. It just… didn’t feel right.

I don’t know if I can have the luxury of getting close with anyone.

The Source still has a grudge against me, even if they don’t have that much power now, not with the General being in charge of everything in Aurora. And the General himself. I believe he’s going to keep his word, but the power can destroy even the strongest will and crush down even the most solid word.

…I don’t know if I can get close with anyone.


	8. Chapter 8

I stopped at a station, something’s wrong with the train, I don’t know. There’s a bar near the station. They don’t have water, instead they have alcoholic beverages of all kinds.

I didn’t get anything for myself but it reminded me of that one time — The Incident — when the kid got wasted. I was kinda pissed at Charity, because the kid could’ve poisoned himself. Good thing I got there in time, he was drunk but not to death. It was funny to drag him out of there, though. A song from another life came to my mind, and before long I was humming it while dragging the kid to the hideout.

The kid is one of those people who get sweet when they are drunk. It’s like he lives up to his name, and every damn thing that happens to him only serves to prove it.

He said something about my voice, that he liked it. He was tilting sideways and didn’t face plant only because my hands were holding him but I nearly dropped him when he said that. I had to play cool and quickly showed back the warmth that spread out in me. It was like a damned sun, brighting everything in sight.

The kid was a light weight on my hands, still bony, and I thought of him like he was fragile. And this thought frightened me.

I saw that he wanted to prove himself, that he didn’t need me doting over him. I saw a man in him. But this also scared me because… because one day he’s going to leave. The day will come when he doesn’t need my protection or my hand on his shoulder.

It scares me.

Maybe this day have already come, and I didn’t notice.

Maybe he doesn’t need me anymore.

Maybe it’s too late.


	9. Chapter 9

After the Source I was… against physical proximity, to put it mildly. The mere thought of someone touching me, apart from that meeting with Tenacity, disgusted me.

But the kid… Somehow he managed to break my resolve.

I’m thinking about that incident with him being drunk and the morning after, when I took pity on the poor kid and massaged his scalp and held my gloved hand pressed to his forehead.

I’m thinking about him falling to his knees and how I had almost touched his back. I thought life had hardened me, but standing there, not knowing what to do or what to say, how to make the kid whole again… I felt my walls cracking. I felt my heart breaking for him.

But he lived through it, didn’t he. He made it.

I’m proud of him.

Why didn’t I say it to him?

I saw how he craved my attention, my approval.

After The Incident I had been noticing how he got lost in thoughts while listening to me, and then he caught himself and blushed, and it was funny. The moment I figured it had something to do with my voice and my humming of the old song was a disaster.

And then one day Charity — damn you, sly old woman — approached me with a grin that I didn’t like and asked me to sing. She knew my little secret, that sometime in the past, when I had been on the run, I had been doing all kinds of work. Including singing at seedy bars in mole-infested parts of the planet.

In fact, that’s how we met each other. When I got to Shadowlair I was in need and desperate to take a job, almost any job. I’d got a word of a woman who helped those in need and I went to her.

The first thing she asked was whether I wanted to be a hustler. Seeing that I almost punched her in her still striking face, she quickly asked what else I could do.

Her place was good, not some mole-hole, and for no reason I said, “I can sing.”

The look on her face was worth it.

So she knew my secret, and sometime after The Incident she came to me and asked if I could sing again. I glared at her but apparently I was out of my game and she didn’t get scared at all. Charity said something about a party, only for close friends. She pulled a fast one and said she wanted to cheer Innocence up. I saw that she knew exactly what she was doing. Of course I couldn’t refuse.

Though when the day approached I was not so sure. I didn’t think I could properly remember any songs and I didn’t have a lot of practice since the last time I had sung. But all the good people were there, Charity, Faith, Honesty, Mary, even Tenacity though I don’t know how Charity had managed to drag him there. I don’t even want to know.

And the kid. With his big blue eyes, damn them. They were shining, the lights that Charity had in the pavilion sparkling like little stars in them.

Everything we had gone through since our meeting had flashed before my eyes, our way to Shadowlair, our struggles, my own past, and a song appeared in my head. I had no musicians to accompany my singing, no instruments but my voice.

And I started singing.

A tad unstable at first, but as the kid’s eyes grew wider and brighter, I grew bolder, my voice getting stronger. I sang of a man who had nothing to die for, of blurry days and nights, things lost, of swallowing down any and every pain. Of yearning for peace.

And through it all the kid didn’t avert his eyes from me for one second.

My small audience started clapping in time with my singing and when the song ended, I think I heard the people on streets near the bar applauding, too.

The kid stared at me then shook himself and started clapping, smiling wide at me.

I’d made a strategic retreat to the bar. I needed space to breath. I needed a second away from the bright blue eyes that were following me like I was the sun and he was a flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Roy sings is Miracle of Sound's [Life In Bullet Time](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rhGhMOOXHA).


	10. Chapter 10

I admit, I took too much pleasure in teasing the kid. It was funny to watch from time to time his pure reactions, his naivety.

Like that one time when I put on Mary’s dress. Really, I just wanted to check her equipment to see if it was still useful. She was kind enough to give me the dress, and I made her wear my jacket and spare pants. She looked nice in them, and after that I bought a jacket for her, even though she still wanted to keep her dress.

I didn’t plan on going out dressed like this or inviting anybody to see me.

But then the kid showed up on the doorstep of a place we used to share when he hadn’t been in the Resistance yet, where he used to sleep on the only bed and I used to sit near the wall opposite of him and watch him, ready to wake him from nightmares.

And I couldn’t lose the opportunity to tease him a bit. I was showing off, playing with him, and a blush looked adorable on him.

When he said that I was pretty, it wasn’t… like in the Source. It was actually flattering.

The kid never fled from my craziness. Even in this he stayed with me.


	11. Chapter 11

This is the final stop of my journey.

It’s a small town, with two dozens of houses, but they’re proper houses, not just boxes with doors attached.

The train is behind my back but I hesitate, delay. I think here I can be honest and say that I want this train to be my last. Not that I don’t want to wander anymore and there’s no guarantee that nobody will ever come hunting me down again.

But I want this train to be the last one that separates me from the kid.

From the station I can see small gardens, dusty-green. Almost every house has one of them. There’s a cistern, towering above the town. A pair of dogs is running between the small houses. I can hear children laughing.

It’s so peaceful in here, like it’s just a dream. It is said that this town was founded by war veterans and refugees who wanted something better, a good place.

I have a small bag with me. My boots are worn out and covered with dust of many places, my jacket is heavy on my shoulders. I want to return the kid’s diary to its owner.

I take a few steps down the stairs.

They call this place New Life.


	12. Chapter 12

I spotted him immediately. He was working in the garden behind one of the small houses in the distant part of the town. I eyed him from the distance. Although I couldn’t see his face, although he’s started growing out his hair — dirty-blond, what a surprise, — although he was bent over a flowerbed of sorts, wearing only a pair of dusty pants… I still recognized him.

But he’s changed, hasn’t he. His shoulders are wider, veins thick on his arms. He’s got bulkier.

The kid is not a kid anymore. This thought pisses me off. For some reason.

I wanted to see his face, his eyes. I wanted a proof that this is still my kid.

But I hesitated, all the “what ifs” flashing through my head. I had to give him his diary, though.

So I went to his garden, crossing the distance between us, and stopped behind him, looking at his tanned back, glistering from sweat.

I tried to grin, to be the Roy he knew.

“Hey, kid.”

He started, dropping gardening tool he was holding, and slowly turned to me. “Roy,” he said, his face passive, as if I was a ghost or a dream. Then he moved, launching himself at me. I kept still, ready to take his punches. I deserved them.

But I was not ready for his fists clenched on my clothes.

“Where've you been?” he managed, voice muffled by my jacket. “Why did you... I thought you abandoned me! I though you... you...” His voice cracked but he continued, “I thought you were dead!”

“Hey, hey, easy.” I didn't know what to do with it. He was shaking violently and… and sobbing like I was already gone, and I put my hands on his back, trying to calm him down. “I'm here, I'm not dead. I came back to you.” His hair tickled my chin, smelling of sand and flowers and soil, and something in me made it hard to breathe.

After a moment he took a step back, running a hand over his face and not looking at me. A blush colored his cheeks.

“I… I’m sorry, Roy. You must be tired, you can sit there…” He reached out but dropped his hand mid-gesture and quickly turned away. “I-I’ll be back in a moment.”

And with that he dashed for the house.

There’s a bench near the flowerbed, and I’m sitting on it, writing this down. He’s not returned yet.

Maybe I should just leave the diary here and go away.


	13. Chapter 13

He returned too fast and was polite and quiet. He offered to show me the house. I didn’t know what else to do.

When I asked if he himself built it, he shook his head. “No, it was already here, I just patched it up a little.” He told me how he fixed the wires and the roof, all of this with a serious look on his face, and I suppressed a smile. He even thanked me for showing him a few things, how to work with metal and electricity, back when we had been in Shadowlair.

His house is a two-story building, small but sturdy, made of actual bricks. It’s clean and cosy. There are pictures on the walls, the kid’s drawings.

I almost tripped over a couch when I saw the only framed picture. A portrait of myself. The background is red and orange, and I’m shooting lightnings, bright blue, out of my left hand. I have a look of concentration on my face.

My eyes are drawn with great attention to details.

“That… That is, uh…” the kid trailed off, standing beside me, and scratched the back of his neck.

There’re portraits of other people, too, Mary and Charity, Tenacity, folks from the Resistance.

But this is the only framed picture, and now I realize that if you sit at the small table the kid has in his kitchen, you can see the drawing. Day in and day out, every day. Preparing dinner or eating breakfast. It is… placed there because the person who hung it on the wall wanted to see it every time they’re here.

Shit.

I awkwardly rummaged through my bag and fished out the kid’s diary. “I believe this is yours,” I said, trying to sound casually.

His eyes lit up so bright it blinded me. “I thought it was lost! Where did you…” He flipped through the diary and then lifted his damn eyes on me, like I presented him a sea of clear water. “You kept writing,” he whispered.

“I… Yeah. That I did. I wanted you to, uh… To know the whole story.”

He has been reading the journal for hours now. I’m sitting on the couch. I’m trying to distract myself with writing.

My hands are trembling.


	14. Chapter 14

He asked me to stay.

No, not that. He asked… He asked if I was going to depart again.

I said I had no plans. After that he smiled and offered his own house. He said I could sleep on the bed and he would sleep on the couch. He wouldn’t accept anything but a yes.

We ate, a mole steak and vegetables. The kid said he was planning on growing his own vegetables and fruits and also herbs to make tea.

He brewed some herbs, with a sweet taste. He said that the herbs were from a neighbor. The kid said, that guy had lost both his son and son-in-law in the war and so he moved here to bring new life. Even if it’s just plants.

It’s so peaceful here. We were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea, and I think the feeling of peace, of light and warmth lowered my defenses. I couldn’t stop myself and asked, “So, what do you think of all this?”

His eyes were half-closed, face basking in the sunlight, a cup in his palms. He opened his eyes and looked at me. He was silent for a moment, then he cast a glance at the spot behind my head.

He looked at my portrait.

The kid blushed a little and lowered his gaze.

“I was mad at you. I asked them to let you join the Resistance but Marco didn’t want to. Then they took me to the prison, again,” he shivered, his face darkening for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze at me, looking stern. “But now I understand, everything. They used me to get to you, and you did everything to keep me safe.” He nodded. “Thank you. You saved me again.”

Just like with his greeting, I didn’t know what to do.

I still don’t know.

I could only nod and offer a smile, and then we noticed that it was already evening. Suddenly I felt exhausted. Never knew I was strung so highly.

He’s not angry at me.

He’s not angry.

He showed me the bedroom — his bedroom, — a small room on the second floor. There is an actual bed here, narrow but soft. And he has a bathroom. With water. He said they use recycling system in the town.

I haven’t used a real bathroom for ages.

He wished me good night with a smile on his lips and went down the stairs.

I like his bedroom. It’s small, just like the whole house, and smells of herbs and bricks. And a shower? The best thing in this damned world. Never thought water could feel so incredibly good.

Any residence was just another hideout for me, and the Source had always been a prison. But this house…

Metal blinds of the only window in the bedroom are painted, swirls and zigzags of blue entwining on them. They’re… lightnings, I think.

He’s gifted, my kid, and neither war nor the camp have drained him of that.

There’s paint on one of the walls, too, an elaborate pattern, light-blue lightnings again and green plants with golden flowers, all colors so bright and full of inner light. It’s not finished, jars of paint and brushes standing guard near the wall.

I’d like to see him drawing.

There’s a table near the window. When the sun is up, the table is basking in its light, it seems. The table is covered with sheets of paper. I don’t want to violate the kid’s privacy but a couple of papers catches my eye.

It’s Mary, wearing my clothes. Seems like that one time I borrowed her dress. Under this picture lies another one, and I have to bite my knuckles to hide a laugh, because it’s me, in Mary’s dress, standing in a weird pose. The picture is drawn with blue pencil, the color lighter and more transparent than the dress was.

That’s how he sees me, huh?

A crazy Technomancer who does odd things.

I turn the drawing over.

Lights are dying. The bed is too soft for me, sheets smelling of herbs just like the whole house smells.

I can’t sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up to an unexpected sound, a peaceful clutter of plates, water flowing, children laughing. This is as novel to me as a shower with running water.

It was warm, and I didn’t put the jacket on, wearing only a sweater. I got down the stairs that creaked softly and saw the kid moving around the kitchen. Something was being cooked on the small stove, and the air was filled with a warm, spicy smell.

“Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples for I am faint with love. His left hand is under my head. His right hand embraces me…”

“What is it?” I asked.

The kid stood still, with a knife in his hand, not turning to me. “Words from an ancient book,” he said, his voice perfectly neutral. “Mom used to recite it while she was housekeeping.”

I felt a sudden lump in my throat. “We’ll find them, I promise,” I managed.

We was silent for a moment then continued to chop with even movements of his hands. “No. No, we won’t.”

He was so quiet, so impassive. Not like the time when he had seen the remains of his house, the remains of his previous life. Nothing in his body suggested tension now, but the silence was so thick and unbreathable, and I reached out my hand, but then he said, “Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Would you mind picking a few tomatoes? They’re near the fence.”

“Sure,” I croaked and went out. As I stepped outside, light filled my vision, caressing my face with warmth. I went to the garden in search of tomatoes, when a shadow appeared near me.

“You’re the Technomancer, then,” barked a voice.

I turned to see five men, standing near the garden gate. They were clenching shovels and hoes, and the one on the front had a heavy wrench in his hands. He was a big fellow, and his eyes were fixed on my left hand. The gloved one.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, the ways to resolve the situation without violence running in my mind. I didn’t want to cause my kid any trouble.

“Don’t try fool me! We know the likes of you, I’ve seen plenty of you during the war, frying my comrades alive!”

“What is happening?” The kid walked into the garden and stopped beside me, watching the men. “What are you doing here, Courage?” he asked of the man with a wrench, his brows furrowed.

“Innocence, step away from this freak!” The big guy came nearer and grabbed my kid’s shoulder, trying to yank him from me. “Did he break into your house at night? Did he hurt you? He threatened you?”

Innocence shrugged the man’s hand off and got closer to me, brushing his forearm against mine. His skin was warm as sunlight. “He did nothing wrong to me, it’s my friend and I owe him my life,” the kid said.

_No. I have done wrong, many times. You owe me nothing._ But those words were not for that moment.

Men gawked at Innocence. “But he’s… He’s one of _them_!”

“He’s a victim, too, just like I am, like all of you are!” Innocence clenched his fists, light blazing in his eyes, making them rich with color. “I won’t let you do him any harm. He is my family.” His voice wobbled slightly in the end, but the men obviously didn’t notice.

I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling how tense he was. “I’m just visiting him. No trouble for you.”

The wrench-man looked into the kid’s eyes and reluctantly nodded. “If you do something to Innocence…” he growled, shaking his wrench at me.

“I won’t,” I assured him.

The group went away, casting glances at me and talking to each other in hushed voices. Only then Innocence relaxed a bit under my palm, rubbing at his forehead.

“Sorry, kid,” I said softly.

“It’s alright,” he answered, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “I’ve forgotten that most people think you’re just a Technomancer and a threat.”

_And for you?_ I nearly asked. _What am I for you? Who am I?_

When have I started to worry about somebody’s opinion on me? What are you doing to me, kid?


	16. Chapter 16

It haunts him, his past.

I was woken up by muffled cries. I stumbled down the stairs, afraid that somebody took him again, that shadows came to take him away and hurt him and punish me through this.

But it was just him, thrashing and moaning and sobbing, barely fitting onto the couch. I placed my hands on his shoulders, afraid that he would wake up, afraid that his nightmares wouldn’t let him go, afraid that he would hurt himself. I called him softly, and he stirred, I thought he would woke up, but he just… relaxed under my hands, sagged like a plant that doesn’t get enough water, his breathing getting steadier.

He’s bulkier, yes, but still so vulnerable, still my kid.

And then I nearly jumped, he turned onto his side, facing me, his body pinning down my left hand, the gloved one, leather creaking softly in the silence of the night.

My knees hurt, I didn’t even remember when I got down, and it hurt, his face was wet from tears.

Did these nightmares claw at him every night? Or maybe it was I who has brought them back…

He was a solid weigh on my hand, I tucked a blanket around him, his long eyelashes damp and dark. His hair stuck to his forehead, and I, I brushed my free hand through it, blond locks curling a little.

He has changed something in me.

I was trying to be a good man, I didn’t kill right and left only because I felt him looking at me. Always. Even when he wasn’t actually around. But at the same time he was. Always watching. Always there. I was his hero, I couldn’t disappoint him. Even if I’m not a hero at all.

He had said “Thank you, Roy” so many times, that it has changed something in me. And I can’t undo it.

I should go, I can’t stay here.

I looked around, his drawings on the walls, my portrait, his sketches upstairs, his diary with his story, with my story. Him protecting me from the townfolk.

I should go. It’s for his sake.

I bent forward to him and, and jerked away. I don’t know what I was thinking. He smells of earth and home.

I waited until his sleep became good and calm, then carefully removed my hand from under him. He curled into a ball, like a puppy. I ran upstairs as fast and as quiet as I could.

I have only a few things with me. The bag is packed, but I’m… lingering. Delaying. Hesitating.

The air is still and full of fresh smell of plants and paint. Blinds on the window are open, and I can see his garden where he wants to grow fruits and vegetables and flowers. It’s dark but I’m used to darkness, to sneaking around and clawing my way through it. I can step softly. He will not notice.

He makes me weak. They fucking used him to get to me! But also he makes me stronger. Makes me better.

This is scary. I don’t deserve this, I’m not a hero.

Let me go.

Please, let me go.


	17. Chapter 17

I waited too long, he was awake when I got downstairs.

The air was suffocating, the light was suffocating.

He stared at me with unbelievably blue eyes, a little unfocused, a little sleepy, and freezing me effectively on the spot. He turned his gaze from my face to the bag in my hands, clarity dawning at him visibly, his face taking that damn earnest look.

“You’ve had a nightmare,” I croaked. Wishing that my voice wouldn’t betray me so much.

“Yes, I have them periodically,” he nodded, not for a damn moment losing eye contact. He sat on the couch and put his hands on the knees, palms down. “Do you know what those dreams are about?”

“What?” I said. The bag in my hands was a heavy weight.

“There’s this recurring nightmare, it gets back more often than the others,” the kid said calmly, evenly. “It varies from time to time, but in every version of it I lose you. Sometimes I see you dying, other times you just don’t come back, vanishing into nowhere.”

Saying these words, he at last dropped his gaze, but his voice sounded perfectly even, without any emotion. “I know you’re not the one who wants to be tied, you value your freedom, I understand—” His voice broke and he raked a hand through his hair. “I just… Don’t want you to go…”

Don’t know when I dropped the bag. Don’t know when I got closer.

He was trembling, and I was standing before him, like a fool, and I thought that this was going to end like that moment when he saw his childhood house broken.

“I know, I’m just— just a burden, I am useless,” he sobbed, wrapping his hands around himself. “I can’t protect myself and you always get into trouble because of me…” And just like that, he wailed. Such a kid.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” I grabbed his shoulders but he shook his head, sagging lower, like he was afraid of me and wanted to run from me.

I couldn’t stand this. To the void with all my insecurities and uncertainty.

He is mine, and I have to protect him. From everything. We had fled the prison camp, we had crossed half the country together, we had fought and bled together. He never left me, not even when he had discovered that I’m a Technomancer.

I had been a prisoner and fugitive all my life. Always on the run, snarling at every shadow, howling from loneliness. But Innocence? He gave me something more, showed me that I can be more.

This is not about being alone. This is about me wanting to be with him, as long as he needs me. But at the same time it is selfish and dangerous—

To the void with everything.

I knelt before him and pulled him up, embracing him.

“Innocence. Innocence, listen to me. You’re not a burden, okay? You drag all good in me to the light, I don’t know how you do this, but this is the truth. This is the truth, you hear me?”

“But you— you wanted to go while I was asleep,” he sobbed into my chest. His hands came winding over my back, gripping my jacket. Just like he did when I got here.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” I fell silent, rocking him a bit. A solid weight in my hands, warmth of another living being, a touch that doesn’t bring pain.

 _Family_ , he said. I am family. He makes it hard for me to breathe.

“It won’t be easy, you know,” I whispered. “There are people who want my head. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” he answered. He stopped crying, taking shaking breaths in. “But I want it anyway. I want you to stay.” He squirmed, trying to lift his head, but I was not ready. Not ready. “Roy?”

I pulled him closer, his breath warming my neck. I hadn’t put the scarf on.

“I’ll stay,” I said at last, and it was so easy, easier than anything. “I’ll stay, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he huffed. “I’m almost eleven. I think.”

It… Maybe it was a lighting. Maybe it had struck me and I started to hear things. “What?” I managed. I’d lost my words, he did that to me often enough. “What, _eleven_? I thought… I though you’re much younger…” I trailed off lamely, like a complete fool.

“ _Almost_ eleven,” he repeated, finally lifting his face and looking at me. His eyes were so damn bright it nearly blinded me. “It’s been half a year since Devotion took me out of the prison. Though I’m not entirely sure… I don’t exactly remember how many days I’ve been in the military.” He frowned, his gaze going distant.

“You’re still a kid,” I said and smiled, trying to shake him out of memories.

And then I didn’t stop myself, I just leaned into him and kissed his forehead. It was like touching the sun. He’s so warm.

He got still for a moment, but I didn’t let him go even though my legs were screaming bloody murder at me for sitting in this uncomfortable position. It was so worth it. He sighed and settled in my embrace.

“This is not going to be easy,” I murmured, resting my chin on the crown of his head.

“I know. But I’m getting used to surprises that seem to be pulled to you,” Innocence said.

“I’m just that irresistible,” I chuckled.

He was silent for a beat of my heart and then replied, “You are, Roy.”

It made something clench in me.

There’s still… this _something_ , I don’t know what, in the air, around us, inside me. It scares the shit out of me, to be frank, but I… I want to know. And Innocence, he will help me with this. I’ll be good for him, I can’t let him down.

I just want him to understand that I’m not the hero of this story.

He is.


	18. Chapter 18

Then Tenacity came by, and we understood that this story was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this story, but for me Mars is far from over. I still have plans and I hope to work on them.
> 
> This is for you (you know who), with my gratitude and love.

**Author's Note:**

> I have only words and I give them to you.


End file.
